


The Emperor is Dead (Long Live the Emperor)

by Demerite



Series: An Unchartered Galaxy [4]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, James T. Kirk is a Little Shit, M/M, Mirrorverse, Non-Canonical Character Death, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 09:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19460860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demerite/pseuds/Demerite
Summary: Overthrowing Georgiou ended up being almost disconcertingly easy, but that was only the first phase of the plan. Well, Jim's plan, anyway.





	The Emperor is Dead (Long Live the Emperor)

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I don't know where this idea came from; I wrote it in under 24 hours because I was possessed by it and it needed to be written. Read the tags. (Aisha, I'm _so_ sorry).

The throne room is empty except for Jim, Gabriel, and the body of the Emperor. 

Overthrowing Georgiou ended up being almost disconcertingly easy, but that was only the first phase of the plan. Well, Jim's plan, anyway. 

Gabriel always let Jim sit in on the strategy sessions, although usually he made Jim kneel at his feet while he plotted and planned with his allies. Jim knew he was there to look pretty and to listen. Later, in the privacy of Gabriel's quarters, he'd volunteer his own ideas and strategies; suggestions for things that could be changed or improved upon. Gabriel always listened to him, and he more often than not would take up Jim's ideas. He never even suspected that Jim was changing things, twisting Gabriel's plans to align with his own in tiny, subtle, but crucial ways. After all, Jim's there to look pretty and do as he's told, he couldn't possibly be planning something himself, right? 

So when the day comes, when they march into the palace, take it, and the Empire itself, by force and skill and cunning, Jim is ready. He knows what he has to do, and he knows that he has the strength to do it. 

His timing is perfect. He'd planned it that way. 

Gabriel is standing beside the now-vacant throne, his sword still dripping blood onto the very stones Jim had once knelt on; a prisoner of the Empire, and a dead Emperor's gift. Jim finds an odd sense of satisfaction with the symmetry of it all. It feels right that he's taking back his freedom in the same place he'd lost it. 

"The Emperor," Gabriel announces, his voice carrying without effort, even though it's only the two of them in the room, "Is dead." He's facing away from Jim, looking out over the throne room, as if imagining that the words are being heard by a far greater audience than just Jim. 

Jim doesn't think. He doesn't need to. He's planned for this moment for so long, turned it over and over in his mind, thought of all the things he wants to say to Gabriel, but when it comes down to it, he doesn't need any of them. 

He takes three steps forward, boots silent on the stones, and drapes himself against Gabriel's side in a way he's done hundreds of times before, easy and languid, leaning against him and tipping his head up a little to whisper in his ear, the words only meant for the two of them. 

"Long live the Emperor." Once, there would have been warmth in his voice. Once, there would have been delight. But tonight, the words fall flat. 

By the time Gabriel realises something is wrong, it's too late. 

The knife Jim has carried since he'd killed to get his hands on it is one of many, but it's the first. It's sharp enough that it's hardly an effort to slide it under the edge of the gold breastplate. He's always told Gabriel that it's a stupidly-designed piece of armour; too easy to get a blade around if you know what you're doing. And Jim does. 

One quick, brutal push, and the blade goes deep, through skin and cartilage and into muscle. 

Jim lets go of it as Gabriel crumples to the floor at his feet, already choking on his own blood. Jim knows enough to know that his aim was true and that it's safe enough for him to crouch down and press a kiss against Gabriel's forehead. 

"You never should have trusted me." Jim says calmly. Then, he straightens up, turns, and walks from the room. He has a few calls to make. 

* 

The first is to the _ISS Enterprise._

The second is to the _ISS Discovery._

The third is to an old J-class starship, a vessel only used in for training cadets, the _ISS Republic._

Then, he waits. 

* 

When she stalks into the throne room less than twelve hours later, Captain Tilly stops short at the sight of him. 

Jim is sprawled lazily across the throne, not because he wants to make any sort of impression - although it helps - but because sitting any other way on the damn thing is incredibly uncomfortable. He's used the ensuing time since he summoned her to clean himself up, but he's left the bodies - both Emperor and usurper - where they fell. That bit _is_ about making an impression.

"You know, I always thought he was a fool to trust you." Tilly says, a vicious smirk twisting her lips upwards. 

"I have an offer for you." Jim's voice is level. He's not going to rise to the bait. 

"And if I decide I don't want to take it, and kill you where you sit?" She asks. 

Jim glances down at the bodies, waits until she follows his gaze. "You're welcome to try." 

"What do you want, Kirk?" She snaps, "You already _have_ the throne."

"What the fuck would I want with it?" Jim says, and she blinks. He's thrown her, if only for a second. "I don't want the throne. I want a ship." 

"A ship." She repeats, looking at him like he's insane. 

"And a crew." Jim keeps his tone light, "Handpicked by me, of course." 

"I'm assuming you already have a list." 

"I do." He's had a list for months, officers picked out and assessed as he planned. 

"I'd be more than happy to turn the _ISS Shenzhou_ over to you." Tilly offers, but Jim is already shaking his head. 

" _Shenzhou_ is old, Captain." He says, "I want the _Enterprise."_

Tilly laughs openly at that. "The _Enterprise_ already has a far more capable captain than you could ever hope to be, Kirk." 

"Does it?" Jim asks, raising his eyebrows at her. He reaches for the PADD he's had ready since before her ship docked and hands it over to her. 

She reads the information on it with her face kept studiously blank, but her posture betrays her anger. 

"What did you do?" She asks him, finally. 

"Nothing you can prove." He says with a dismissive shrug, "It's a pity, he was such a loyal servant of the Empire, you'd think people would be more careful about checking the radiation shielding before he took those cadets onboard." 

Tilly glares at him. 

"Still, accidents happen, and those old J-classes are unreliable at the best of time." Jim ignores her hostility, "I'm sure you'll want to have words to their engineering crew about it." 

"You've made your point." Tilly growls, her calm facade cracking, "What exactly do you want, and what are you prepared to offer in return?" 

And now is the time. Time to lay it all out, to give her the choice he _knows_ she won't be able to refuse; too hungry for power, "I want the _Enterprise,_ and a crew of my choosing from throughout the Empire, to fight our enemies however I deem necessary." He stands, steps down towards her until they're standing on the same level, "In return, I'll give you the throne, and my silence on how you came by it. For all I care, you can tell the whole Empire you killed them both." He tips his head dismissively in the direction of the two bodies, cold and pale on the stone floor. 

"Fine." Tilly says, without even seeming to consider it, "You have a list." 

"On the PADD." 

Tilly gives him a long, calculating look. "In that case, allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your promotion, Captain Kirk." 

"Thank you, Emperor Tilly." Jim replies. With that, he turns and stalks from the room. There's a ship waiting for him, half the crew already loyal, and those who won't join him will soon find themselves floating home sans EV suits. He has plans, and no-one is getting in his way. 

As he approaches the airlock, Imperial Captain James T. Kirk starts to whistle to himself. Oh yes, he has plans. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://demerite.tumblr.com/).


End file.
